Instead, her crimes triggered a trust that transferred billions directly to Hannah’s three children.
Daniel blinked.
“Does this mean I’m rich?”
Hannah wiped tears of laughter from her eyes.
“No.”
“But the lady said—”
“You’re eight.”
“So?”
“So tomorrow you’re still cleaning your room.”
Daniel looked horrified.
“What is even the point of being a billionaire?”
Ethan laughed so hard he had to turn away.
Hannah watched her children beneath the falling Chicago snow.
Daniel complaining.
Lily demanding to walk.
Noah reaching toward his father.
Ethan lifting him into his arms.
And suddenly the billions meant nothing.
The mansion meant nothing.
The headlines meant nothing.
Five years ago, Hannah had stood alone in a hospital corridor and been told her baby was dead.
Now that child was throwing snow at his father.
Two premature twins who might not survive the night were bundled warmly in front of her.
